


Last Goodbye

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen, Series: Aaron Copland Tetralogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-08
Updated: 2000-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray and Fraser investigate a missing persons case.  NOT character death.This story is a sequel toLast Ten Dollars.





	Last Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

 

What to Listen For in Music The Aaron Copland Trilogy

 

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Part Four of the Aaron Copland Tetralogy.

If you thought this Jeff Buckley song was sad before, try hearing it in a church, at a funeral for a friend, whilst his wife and two young sons sit in the front row.

This is an intensely personal story that I didn't mean to write.This series was originally a trilogy, but this flowed out of me.The events described herein are real.

For John.

## The Last Goodbye

by Carol Trendall

 _This is our last goodbye_

 _I hate to feel the love between us die_

 _But it's over_

 _Just hear this and then I'll go_

 _You gave me more to live for_

 _More than you'll ever know Jeff Buckley_

I never had cause to think about the power of song before today.Oddly, I learned the lesson in a church, at a funeral.

The funeral was for a man Ray was called in to find.He found him.

I never met Sean Brooke, but Ray and I saw a side of him that no one should ever have to bear witness to.

Ray and I stood at the back of the church, watching in silence as the pallbearers lifted the rosewood coffin and carried it down the aisle, the two men in front crying unashamedly, their grief plain for all to see.Behind them came Kate Brooke, her younger son on her hip and her older son walking beside her, his hand clutched firmly in his mother's.

I heard the sad guitar strains of a musician I did not recognise, a contemporary musician no doubt.As the singer's mournful voice echoed around the cavernous interior, I finally understood how powerful a song could be.Music has rallied nations to war and civilians to kill, why not to show grief?I finally shed the tears I had been unable to a week earlier.

It was on Sunday morning that Ray was called in to investigate a missing persons case. The call came while we were having brunch at a local diner only a short walk from Ray's apartment.Assuming it would be a matter of a short interview, Ray invited me to accompany him.On the way he briefed me on the details he had received on his cell phone.

A woman had reported her husband missing.Apparently she had not seen him since she left for work on Friday morning.Whilst I understood the woman's concern, I have to admit to not being immediately worried. The man had been gone for less than two days.Ray said that he thought it was a case of a husband going off on a drinking binge or running away and I must admit to thinking along those lines myself for a moment.I normally prefer to give someone the benefit of the doubt, but these years in Chicago have taught me that my way of viewing the world is sometimes a little idealistic.

My concurrence with Ray's suggestion, though, wavered when we arrived at the man's home.A converted warehouse in a part of town that had gone from industrial to fashionable, the Brooke home was a typical example of a young professional couple making an oasis in the midst of the city.Although not a wealthy suburb, the surrounding homes led me to believe that the people there were comfortably off.But, as I have said, sometimes I see these things too idealistically.

The man's wife, Kate, met us at the door and led us down the corridor that led to the main living area, a large room overlooking a large atrium garden in the middle of the old warehouse.Two small boys played at one end of the room, laughing and chatting in the morning sun.It was then that I began to feel this case was not as simple as it first seemed.

I went to play with the boys while Kate told Ray her story.Kate and her husband, Sean, were both career people, both television producers.Their sons, Liam and Stephen were aged five and three, respectively and Kate and Sean had been married for eight years.Kate had last seen her husband when she had left for work Friday morning.

Nothing Kate told us indicated that anything was out of the ordinary.Sean had no enemies she knew of, no drug or alcohol problems and she assured us they were in no financial difficulties.Ray asked if there was anyone or any place that Sean might go to if he was in trouble.Kate suggested we speak to her husband's nephews.They were on their way and would be there shortly.

While we waited for Sean's nephews, I spoke to the boys.Liam and Stephen were happy children and smart, too.I asked them if they missed their daddy, but Liam told me that he was used to his father not being there all the time.It seemed Sean's work as a television producer caused him to travel a lot.Neither boy seemed to suffer because of it.I asked Liam and Stephen if they saw their father on Friday morning and they both said yes.He had hugged them for a long time, apparently, then left in Kate's old car.

When I rejoined Kate and Ray I asked about Kate's old car.She told us that it was an ancient Datsun she had owned since her teenage years.Sean had been working on it, fixing it up so they would have two cars.

I was surprised when Sean's nephews arrived.They were both big, strapping men in their mid twenties, not much younger than Sean himself.The way they hugged Kate and the boys told me that this was a close family and they were very protective of her.Ray asked the nephews, Mark and Brett, to tell us what they knew.

Although the men spoke clearly, the troubled look in their eyes worried me.A quick glance at Ray showed me that he, too, had seen it.Mark and Brett told us that they had last seen Sean on Wednesday night and he had seemed sad.

It took Ray only a moment to realise that they wanted to say more, but would not do so in front of Kate.I looked over at Kate, who had bowed her head.I knew then that something terrible had happened.

  
We rose to leave shortly after, Ray pressing his card onto Kate and holding her hand longer than he normally would.I knew he was worried.Mark and Brett offered to show us out, leaving Kate with her sons.

At the door, out of earshot of Kate and the boys, the two young men told us what they had wanted to.It seemed that Sean had been severely depressed last time they had seen him.When Kate told them he was missing, they had immediately checked a big old trunk in the garage.

Kate's father, a cattle farmer, was close to Sean and he had given him an old rifle.It was a beautiful old gun, with brass fittings and a scrimshaw butt.Sean stored it in a locked trunk in the garage.When Mark and Brett checked the trunk it was unlocked and the gun missing.

I saw the look on Ray's face change.He asked them if they knew where Sean might go.Mark and Brett exchanged a look that spoke of their fears and then gave Ray three locations on the very outskirts of Chicago.

We found Sean Brooke at the second location.An hour's drive out of the city, down a dirt track that led to a swimming hole, Ray spotted Kate's old orange Datsun parked under a tree.Pulling up behind it we could see the shape of a man in the driver's seat.Ray and I didn't speak, we knew what we were about to find.

The blood splattered across the windscreen was dry and black, indicating that Sean had been dead for some time.The left side of his chest was a gaping hole and the rifle that had caused it had fallen to the floor, catching on the gear stick so that its barrel now pointed at the ground.

Ray and I stood in silence as long minutes came and went.I don't know what Ray was thinking as we stood there, but I wondered what Sean had thought about in the final moments before he ended his life.Did he think about his two young sons?Did he think about his wife?Did he think about the father-in-law who had given a gift never intended for such use?I wanted to cry, but found myself strangely frozen.

Mark and Brett were with Kate and the boys when Ray told them.Kate didn't ask for details.I think Ray's expression told her that she didn't want to know.Sean had left no note.The autopsy would tell if he had drugs or alcohol in his blood.For now, no one knew why this terrible thing had happened.

A week passed before Kate Brooke was able to bury her husband.The autopsy showed Sean had a little codeine in his system, the amount you might have if you had taken a painkiller for a headache.No alcohol, no drugs and no reason why he had chosen to take his own life.

The funeral was large; Sean and Kate had many friends.Sean Brooke was of Irish stock and, like any good Irish family, the Brookes held a wake.Sean's mother, a tiny Irishwoman, wandered about the room with a stack of plastic cups in one hand and a bottle of Irish whiskey in the other.Although I don't normally drink, I took a plastic cup from the stack and accepted a slug of whiskey.It burned my throat but, like the song I had heard in the church, I relished the pain.

I sought out Kate's sister and asked her about the song that had been played at the church.She told me it was Jeff Buckley.I'd never heard of Mr Buckley before, but I know exactly how he sounds.In time, I will buy a CD of his music and when I do and when I hear the song, like the whiskey that burned my throat, it will always remind me of that day in the church.It will always be a wife's final farewell to her husband, a man who chose to leave her and her sons for no apparent reason.

Copyright October 2000

#  Comments welcome at


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